


Kin

by Sealie



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-03-31
Updated: 1999-03-31
Packaged: 2018-11-11 04:47:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11141304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sealie/pseuds/Sealie
Summary: Yes, I know that these due South fic are coded incorrectly. Yes, I know that there are rampant Briticisms. Yes, I know that the spelling is very flawed in places. Yes, I know that the grammar iswrong.If you read the fic, I don’t need you to tell me these things.I was a very little, new fanfic writing/posting fan when I wrote these stories. I hadn’t learned some of the methods of managing my dyslexia, which I use everyday today with varying degrees of success. I hadn’t learned a lot of things.I tried several times over the years to get the due South archivist to delete them to no avail. When I saw them uploaded to Ao3 – after sitting staring in abject horror at the screen -- I also considered claiming and deleting them myself, but they are part of my history, even though they generally only received nasty comments.I’m leaving them here for the time being. Remember, we were all new and inexperienced at some point.





	Kin

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know that these due South fic are coded incorrectly. Yes, I know that there are rampant Briticisms. Yes, I know that the spelling is very flawed in places. Yes, I know that the grammar is _wrong_. 
> 
> If you read the fic, I don’t need you to tell me these things. 
> 
> I was a very little, new fanfic writing/posting fan when I wrote these stories. I hadn’t learned some of the methods of managing my dyslexia, which I use everyday today with varying degrees of success. I hadn’t learned a lot of things.
> 
> I tried several times over the years to get the due South archivist to delete them to no avail. When I saw them uploaded to Ao3 – after sitting staring in abject horror at the screen -- I also considered claiming and deleting them myself, but they are part of my history, even though they generally only received nasty comments.
> 
> I’m leaving them here for the time being. Remember, we were all new and inexperienced at some point.

Kin

# Kin

Standard disclaimer et cetera et cetera. The story is set before 'Victoria's  
Secret' in the first season (not that anyone needs to be told that piece  
of information).

I wrote this just before Christmas (but when I submitted the story it ended up in CyberSpace limbo never to be seen again) and since then someone out there has written a very good due South story with similar imagery \- great minds think alike or dueser's seldom differ. Gilda I tried to write to you to say I wasn't plagiarising (Brownie's Honour :^)) but the e-mail just kept bouncing back. 

'G' rating with a little sappy bit. Comments most definitely appreciated e-mail: 

*Merry Christmas* 

# Kin.

By Sealie Scott 

Benton Fraser had had a bad day and the night didn't look as if it was going to get any better. His morning didn't bear thinking about with that inquisitive personnel officer at RCMP headquarters badgering him about things preferably left alone. And he still felt cold and damp after several hours guard duty in the afternoon's pelting rain. Then Inspector Moffat had volunteered him to assist the 27th precinct in a joint night surveillance of a Canadian called Abe MacIntosh, suspected of extortion and blackmail. Not that he minded since it meant working with Ray Vecchio (who had been volunteered by Lieutenant Welsh) but a break of a few minutes would have been nice. The surveillance equipment had been set up in a seedy apartment opposite the blackmailer's equally dilapidated apartment. The mountie and the detective sat in companionable silence watching MacIntosh's house. Fraser stretched in the hard wooden chair forcing the kinks out of his spine 

"Tired?" Ray asked. 

Fraser smiled gamely at the detective. "Long day." 

"Yeah, tell me about it. Welsh's been on my case all day. Thinks I'm incompetent, I guess." Ray propped his elbows on the window sill and rested his chin on his hands. 

"Why?" Fraser asked curiously - wondering if Ray wanted him to probe further. Sometimes the detective made general comments which were very personal. Occasionally they were invitations - allowing the mountie to find more about his new friend, more than often they were escaping little truths which Ray then obviously wished he'd never let out. 

"Oh, just normal stuff." Ray said noncommittally 

Wasn't an opening to talk, Fraser noted, he might change the subject now or make an excuse to leave the room. 

"Benny, if you're tired, why don't you get your head down for a while?" 

Fraser looked over his shoulder at the bare single mattress the police department had provided them for this truly mind numbing stakeout. It looked rather comfortable. 

"Go on, Benny." Ray cajoled. "Half an hour." 

Fraser dithered - Ray obviously didn't want to talk about his day and he had no intention about talking about his - a quick nap might restore his normal good spirits. Maybe then Ray will want to talk, Fraser thought. He didn't need to be told twice. 

* 

He knew it was a dream: the snow field was too smooth; the slate grey sky above him too uniform - merging at the horizon in an unpenetrable cloud. Tabula rasa. Any moment now and his Dad would appear asking why on Earth he was wandering around here again. Fraser picked up a handful of the formless snow, it trailed ribbon like through his fingers frittering away to nothing. Fraser scanned the unfathomable horizon looking for landmarks that he knew should be there. Where are they? He thought, feeling vague stirrings of unease. A tower, a lighthouse, guiding him was usually present, its actinic light illuminating the drab landscape. Fraser patted idly at the snow with his foot restoring its sameness. He was not going to wander aimlessly through this nothingness without any guidance. It took little effort to fashion a raised pedestal to sit upon so he could watch the plane around him. Nothing. This had to be the most boring dream he had ever had. 

"Hello?" He finally asked. 

No answer, but it echoed around him. Spurred, he lifted his head and began to sing. 'My Song Is Love Unknown' filled the landscape. The lyric counterpoint of his voice and echoes intermeshed. Fraser lost himself in the purity of the music. Timeless. Still reverberating, Fraser allowed his voice to pitter away, a clinical objective side of him noted that the acoustics of this place were flawless another part revelled in the simple perfection. In the distance, another voice joined the tones, discordant and jangling. Fraser pushed off from his pedestal - ears attuned to identify the culprit. The world around him had that same sameness. Frustrated, Fraser stepped forwards, he couldn't make out the words or the voice, it grated upon his nerves. 

"Who are you?" Fraser called, surprising himself, it echoed back at him, mockingly. 

*Who, who, who* 

"Show yourself!" He demanded. Again he surprised himself, speaking out of turn, provoked by the voice. Forcing composure, Fraser reformed his seat and perched quietly. The quietness was reflected in the landscape. Fraser waited patiently - alone. He finally ground his teeth together \- the sound harsh in the twilight. The voice began again. Fraser launched himself off the pedestal and ran towards the song. He could make out the lyrics. 

*...coupled our fate* 

Fraser skidded to a halt. Something in the flat landscape caught his foot tripping him. He fell full length in the enveloping softness. 

"Dief!" He yelled. If Dad won't come, maybe Diefenbaker will. 

* 

Ray Vecchio, Chicago detective, Italian, Uncle, Brother and friend, looked up from his surveillance of the MacIntosh Residence to regard his companion. Benny was still fast asleep obtaining a much needed forty-winks. For an adult Benny needs a lot of sleep, Ray noted. In fact the mountie never managed a full night's session without a little shut eye. Yawning, Ray peered at Abe MacIntosh's house - nothing had moved since the last time he had looked. Behind him Benny was singing to himself, something about: 'loveless shown'. Unsurprisingly, Ray mused, it doesn't make much sense. Why can't he sing def Lepard or some Tina Turner. Anything's better than this classical shit. Oh God, he might start on country and western next. Luckily, Benny finished and rolled onto his back. Ray cast a glance over his shoulder, the mountie's eyelids were flickering. Whatever he's dreaming about it's gotta be a doozy, Ray noted. 

"Dief!" Benny said clearly. 

The wolf perked up his ears and crawling on his belly sidled to his friend's side. Why Benny couldn't figure out that the damn wolf could hear, Ray didn't know. Dief nudged Fraser's hand but Benny didn't stroke him, lost in Dream's paralysis. 

* 

"Dief!" The wolf didn't come - Fraser hit out against the cloying snow clawing his way to the surface. 

*Life is an Ocean* 

Fraser broke free, gasping. 

*Love is a boat* 

"What are you trying to tell me!" Fraser hollered. The song continued unrelentless. Exhausted, Fraser dropped his head into the snow and allowed it to settle around him. Muffled the music slipped away. Peace at last, Fraser thought revelling, perhaps this nightmare will end? The snow started to fall. 

Burying him. 

* 

Dief whined. 

Ray slammed down the binoculars inexplicably annoyed. "Let the man get some sleep!" 

Dief growled, the sound rolling in his throat. Ray crossed to the wolf and caught his ear, he couldn't believe that he was manhandling a practically wild animal. 

"You want my donuts? Leave Benny alone." 

Dief whined pathetically and licked at the detective's hand. 

Ray looked at Benny, his face was flushed and he was clearly not enjoying his dream. Twisting in some horrible nightmare. 

"Benny?" Ray patted his shoulder. "Come on, wakey-wakey." 

* 

*When we started the voyage there was just me and you* 

Fraser lifted his head. The voice was clear, the lyrics defined. 

*And now gathered around us we have our own crew* 

He shook his head, snow cascading away. Fraser rose from the coldness. Standing tall, Fraser lifted his hand, feeling the vibrations of warmth and humanness and belonging drawing him forwards. 

It was Ray voice calling him. Taking him away from the peace and simplicity and ultimately death in the cold snow. 

"Ray?" 

* 

"Yup." Ray shook Benny wake with a firm grip. Benny's eyes shot open for a moment staring unseeingly then focusing unerringly on the face before him. 

"Ray?" 

"Who else?" The detective shrugged offhandedly. "You were having a nightmare." 

"I was?" Benny pondered his friend's words. 

"Hey, Benny, are you awake or are your eyes just open," Ray snickered, "like ninety nine percent of the population?" 

Benny smiled tentatively up at him. Ray knew the expression - it was Benny's: 'you're doing something I don't understand but I'll go along with it because I trust you' expression. 

"Look, you're awake - will you man the binoculars so I can go to the john?" 

Benny rubbed the sleep from his eyes, a childlike gesture, and then stumbled towards the surveillance equipment. Ray waited making sure his partner was awake and not just sleepwalking before heading to the bathroom. 

* 

Fraser placed the ear muffling headphones on his head and turned down the gain on the amplifier. Ray always kept it too high. 

"Strangest dream." He muttered to himself. 

"Seemed pretty obvious to me." Fraser senior's voice noted. "Then again you've always been a bit dense about these things." 

Fraser groaned into his hands. The headphones did nothing to blot out the dead mountie's pithy comments. 

"So why don't you explain it to me?" 

"Well, son, you know I can't do that. That would defeat the objective." 

What would Eric say about Dad haunting me? Fraser wondered. Something enigmatic no doubt. 

"We haven't actually ascertained if you're just a figment of my imagination or a ghost. If you're a figment you're part of me so you can tell me because I'm just talking to myself..." 

"Ah, but I could be a ghost and therefore my own entity." Dead mountie countered as Fraser knew he would. There was a wide grin on his father's face. 

Fraser dropped his head onto the windowsill before him. He resisted the temptation to bang his head repeatedly against the frame. 

"I could give you a clue." 

"Please." Fraser whispered. 

"Well, what did you prefer?" Asked the mountie. 

Prodded, Fraser lifted up his head. The expression on Bob Fraser's face could only be described as a self satisfied smirk. 

"There was nothing to like. I was either sitting quietly, alone. Or that voice was clamouring disconcordently demanding attention." 

"And?" Fraser senior patently schooled his features into an insincere listening expression. If I had my gun I might use it, Fraser thought. "And what?" 

Fraser senior sighed deeply. "Was the voice really that bad?" 

Fraser contemplated for a moment. "No - the lyrics were quite good actually." 

"So what did you prefer?" 

"Ray waking me up." Fraser finally realised. 

"See that wasn't too difficult was it?" Fraser senior said patronisingly. With an appropriately Cheshire cat like grin on his face he faded from human ken. 

"I don't understand." Fraser said plaintively. 

"Don't understand what?" Ray asked as he folded his lithe frame into the hard chair beside Fraser. 

"The dream." Fraser clarified as he removed the headset. 

"Why does everything have to have a meaning for you? Maybe it was just a simple little nightmare. If I dream about ghoulies; I've had a dream about ghoulies. None of this metaphysical claptrap." Ray shrugged dismissing the problem and picked up the pair of binoculars and glared at the MacIntosh Residence. 

"There was a meaning." Fraser persisted. "You took me from the plane when I couldn't find my way out. But normally I can find my way out of anywhere." Fraser could hear a slight whine in his voice. 

"Sometimes you don't know that you're lost." Ray said sagely. 

Fraser pondered the wise words. 

* 

The detective decided that stakeout conversations were always stupid. Put two grown men together alone after dark and the conversation always turns to women or meta- freakin'-physics. And Benny never talks about wimmen, Ray thought waspishly. He draped himself over the chair, a dark shadow in his black polo-neck and slacks, and prepared his next pearl of wisdom. The beauty was that Benny considered everything a person said to him and always drew his own conclusions irrespective of what the person actually said - ascribing them some God given wisdom when they were really talking crap. 

"Interesting point." Benny said. 

Ray rolled his eyes heavenward. 

"So, I don't know I'm lost." Benny mused out loud. 

"Why 'Lost'?" Ray interjected - he might as well keep on talking there was nothing else to do and MacIntosh wasn't moving. 

"Oh." Benny said, his face a picture. "Good point." Once again he lapsed into deep thought. Ray grimaced, Benny was taking this very seriously. Perhaps I better stop feeding him crapola, he realised. The mountie's brow was etched with concentration obviously dwelling on every nuance of the dream. 

"I was Alone!" Benny exulted suddenly. 

Yeah, well you've been alone your entire life by the sound of it - I thought you'd be used to it by now, Ray reflected hollowly, that doesn't mean you have to like it. 

"I was only lost when I decided to be alone." Benny's voice was gleeful. "If I stopped trying to escape I was caught. Then when I decided to stay you came and got me!" Benny's eyes were bright with happiness practically glowing in the darkness. 

"And you think this has a meaning?" Ray ventured slowly. 

"Yes." Benny turned on his seat and stared directly at him. Emotions were bubbling in his face - rarely, if ever, had Ray seen Benton Fraser Stoic Mountie par extraordinare look so excited. 

"Ray, Ray, Ray, I've a favour to ask you?" He paused eagerly. 

He's going to wait until I say yes before asking me the favour, Ray realised. 

"Yes." Ray said, albeit reluctantly, he was rewarded by a brighter smile. 

"Will you be my Next of Kin?" 

* 

It was perfect; it was right, Benton realised. Some bureaucrat at Headquarters, in Canada, had realised that Constable Benton Fraser RCMP for all intents and purposes was an orphan. The amount of paper work and telephone calls that the personnel officer had then inflicted on the hapless mountie had been staggering. At one point Fraser had found himself looking forwards to a stint of guard duty. He hadn't thought of himself as an orphan - but what he'd told Ray that first night before he had been dragged to the Vecchio household had been true. He had no family: no grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins. His father's death had robbed him of any connection to a fundamental belonging called a Family. The forms, sitting on his desk, had demanded that he list a Next of Kin in case of emergencies. Another thought that he shied away from. In a moment of bleak amusement he had toyed with putting Diefenbaker's name down on the dotted black line but he didn't know the wolf's birthdate. That single paragraph had become anathema. That simple little form had illuminated a gaping hole in his life and he had no idea how to fill it. Until now. 

* 

The world dropped out of Ray. The simple request echoed through him. Ray stared back at the mountie knowing that he, the garrulous detective, was actually dumbstruck. A worried look flitted across Benny's face - thinking that his request was going to be rejected. Ray hastened to reassure the man before him. 

"I'd be honoured." Ray said, the words were alien to his tongue - yet they were right - a simple yes would not have sufficed for such a momentous occasion. 

The radiant smile was back. 

He knew suddenly that he had said the right thing - any hedging, any vacillation - and Benny would have climbed back into his shell never to be seen again. Ray relaxed back into his hard chair. He hadn't even noticed that he had jerked upright at Benny's words. He couldn't believe that Benny thought he was good enough to be his next of kin. Yet there was a sublime rightness to the pact that they had just made. Benny's just handed a portion of himself to me: a skinny, noisy, bad tempered..., Ray thought disparagingly of himself. Then he looked into his friend's happy eyes. Benny obviously trusted and really liked him. It was an awesome responsibility. It was a gift. It was true: they were best friends. 

Fini 

Music: 'My Song Is Love Unknown' by Samuel Crossman 'Voyage' by Christie Moore. 

* * *

  



End file.
